The boy in the rain
by DU-muc
Summary: Just a little oneshot about the young Greg House.


It was raining like hell. Even a dog shouldn't be sent out in such a night.

Every now and then lightning would have interrupted the darkness and lightened up heaven for a split second. Only few moments later a loud thunder would startle up everyone in the streets.

But there was nobody around. It was just him sitting on the porch totally soaked by the rain. His teeth chattered he had given up to suppress it an hour ago. The heavy wind made sure that the rain reached him under the porch roof although he had pressed himself against the wall.

Greg covered the book in his hands under his open shirt as good as possible.

It was nearly impossible for him to read with the only dimmed light from the street lamp but he didn't care if it would ruin his eyes. If he was forced to spend the night out here he would do it without complaining without crying or moaning. He would not give his father the benefit of showing weakness. And he had hidden a small library in a waterproof box under the porch a long time ago since he was used to stay outside for the night.

But Greg didn't keep anything but books in his hidden place. No food or blankets, no warming clothes. He was stubborn enough to take this punishment without support.

Another thunder cracked through the air and Greg startled once more.

He closed the book and put it back in the box. No need to have it destroyed completely by that dumb rain.

Greg leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He had stopped thinking about all those punishments a long time ago. He didn't care about the reasons or why his dad took those drastic and cruel measurements for the smallest breach of rules. He wasn't upset he didn't feel anger. Concerning his dad he just felt numbness. He didn't care for him at all. It was the safest way for him and the most painless way of dealing with this.

Suddenly he heard a car. Since they lived on a military base there was hardly any traffic during the night. The car stopped in front of the house of their neighbors on the other side of the street.

Greg recognized the white star on the door. He observed two persons getting out. One of them wore a uniform. Greg's trained eyes made him out as a colonel immediately. It was his dad's commanding officer. The other man was a priest.

The boy sitting on that porch knew that the residents of that house enjoyed their last minutes probably asleep before their lives would be changed forever. The wife would receive the worst possible news while her children would not realize what's going on until mummy wiped away the tears for a moment and explained them that daddy would not come home.

Greg knew the captain living next door like he knew all the other families around. The soldiers were stationed in Vietnam at the moment but his dad had come home to recover from an injury. He wouldn't leave for the next 3 weeks.

While Greg watched the men step up the two stairs leading to the house he had just one thought.

It shouldn't have been this father of two. A 6 year old boy and a 4 year old girl. A father who had spent his time at home playing with his kids. Chasing them around the garden with the hosepipe in summer, showing them how to ride a bike or reading them stories in the evenings.

It should have been his dad. The father of a 15 year old boy. So stubborn and duteous that he would beat up his own son when his room was not cleaned up perfectly or made him spend nights in the garden because he brought home a B instead of an A although the father had spent an afternoon practicing with his boy. It should have been the dad who didn't deserve that title at all since he couldn't show his son any love or affection.

Greg wondered how he would feel if that car would pull over in front of their house one day. His mother would be desperate and devastated. But how would he react? Would he really appreciate it? Would he be glad about it? Would he be relieved?

Greg couldn't say. It was one thing to hate the man and to enjoy the time whenever he flew his stupid plane somewhere far away. But what he would feel if his dad was killed in action? That's one of these things you have to experience to find out.

Greg heard his father stepping out on the porch. Captain House lightened a cigarette and exhaled the smoke noisily. He stood 3 feet away from his son and looked across the street where his colonel and the priest entered the house.

"Poor Gladys. And their two kids.", he mumbled and looked at Greg finally.

"You don't know how lucky you are!"

Greg kept focused on the now closed door on the other side.

"Look at me when I talk to you!", the captain yelled and Greg raised his head to meet his father's eye.

"Your mother and I sacrifice so much to make sure you have a good life and this is how you thank us? We expect so little and still you manage to fail half the time."

He shook his head.

"It was the best work in class. Nobody had an A!", Greg defended himself.

"Who cares what everyone else does? Just because your classmates failed doesn't justify your failure!", his father shouted now.

Silence built up for a while.

Finally the old House took another drag from his cigarette and dropped it to kill it with his shoe.

"You can come in now. I won't have you lying around for a week just because you catch a cold with your weak immune system. You wouldn't last half an hour in the Corps."

Greg got up still looking at his father.

"I will never be a soldier. I will use my brain and not follow stupidly some superiors or the guys in Washington."

Capt. House didn't hesitate a second before he slapped his son across the face with his open hand.

Greg didn't even wince. They stood there face to face starring at each other.

The Marine captain and the 15 year old boy.

But suddenly Greg smiled.

"What are you smiling about, boy?", his father wondered.

"It didn't hurt at all! I couldn't even feel it. You used to hit harder.", Greg announced still grinning.

It was always the same. He just couldn't stop provoking his dad.

His father nearly lost his temper. But the door on the other side opened again. The colonel and the priest stepped out together with the crying widow.

It was not the perfect time to beat up the own son.

"I see you tomorrow, Greg!", he mumbled, stepped back inside and locked the door.

Greg sat back down on the wet floor. He was freezing and tired. He knew the next hours would be hell and maybe worse and since he had missed dinner he got hungry. But still he was in a good mood he hadn't wiped the grin out of his face yet because he had just defeated his father.

It didn't happen often and he always had to pay for it. But it prevented him from giving up. His dad might win his fights out there in the world but Greg would always be the enemy he would never break.


End file.
